


Can We Get Connected?

by Car



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Fix-It, Getting Together, M/M, Oh my god they were quarantined, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Short & Sweet, but like long distanced :(, quarantine fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23815291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Car/pseuds/Car
Summary: It was a sign.It had to be a sign, right? Like, he had finally decided it was time, finally got up the courage, finally grew enough balls to tell Eddie how he felt...Just in time for entire world to come to a giant, screeching halt.Despite Richie's wishes, there would be no oceanside sunset confessions coming any time soon, so for now, the pathetic, lonely pining continued.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 14
Kudos: 172





	Can We Get Connected?

It was a sign.  
  


It _had_ to be a sign, right? Like, he had finally decided it was time, _finally_ got up the courage, _finally_ grew enough balls to tell Eddie how he felt...  
  


Just in time for entire fucking world to come to a giant, screeching halt.   
  


"We'll just have to figure out when to do a make-up trip," Bev was saying sadly from her little video feed in the corner of Richie's laptop screen where she sat side-by-side with Ben, effectively pulling Richie from the little field trip he was on inside his mind. "We'll get refunds and plan to meet up once this is all over."  
  


"We can still do LA," Bill supplied helpfully. "Ruh-right, Rich?"  
  


Oh shit they were looking at him now. He cleared his throat and nodded dumbly. "Yeah, of course," he said quickly. "Summer in LA, who doesn't love getting literally set on fire?"  
  


A few chuckles from a few different video windows, an eye roll and a head shake from the others, when Mike chimed in, the whisper of a pout on his face. "Could be fall by the time things are back to normal," he reminded them cautiously.   
  


The Losers all nodded sullenly. Ben rubbed at Bev's shoulders. "We'll figure it out, guys. Staying safe is the important thing right now, right?" He smiled into the camera in that sweet, loving, dumb dog way of his. "How is everyone doing, by the way? Anyone need anything?" He paused for just a moment, contemplating his next sentence before apparently deciding to just go for it. "Eddie? You doing okay?"  
  


Richie had been pointedly avoiding looking at Eddie's screen up until this point, finding it easier to get through these kind of Losers Club virtual reunions when he wasn't distracted by whatever beautiful nonsense Eddie was getting himself up to out in New York.   
  


Because he _was always_ up to nonsense, and it was _ridiculous_. If Richie got shit from everyone for his ADHD tendencies, Eddie had better been getting it tenfold, because the man was apparently incapable of remaining still for all of ten minutes before needing to pace around, or clean off a table, or organize a bookcase or whatever-the-fuck. He went on a fucking run through Central Park while talking to them one day, until Stan finally lost it and told him to stop before he gave them all motion sickness. Eddie had pouted on a bench for the reminding of the conversation, glaring heatedly at passerby's that dared to give him weird looks for video chatting out in public.   
  


Today, he appeared to be making dinner. Richie could tell because he was wearing an apron (and _God help him_ for that) and kept leaning out of frame every few minutes to poke or prod at something with a spatula. Richie was brought back into the present by the affronted glare and scoff Eddie made replying to Ben, as if the idea of checking on him, specifically, during a worldwide pandemic was absurd.   
  


"What the fuck do you mean _'Eddie, are you okay?_ ' What the fuck?" he demanded, to everyone else's amusement. Stan and Bill both shook their heads.   
  


"Eddie, honey," Bev said with an amused little smile. "You can't blame us for making sure you're not freaking out right now."  
  


"Of course I'm not freaking out," he snapped, turning away from them to continue poking violently at whatever it was he was making off-screen. Richie couldn't help but notice and his little pout. "Like I haven't been preparing for this exact fucking scenario for forty-three years. Fuck you guys. I'm doing great."   
  


Bill smiled fondly. "Y-you're sure? You don't need any of us to come out th-there and help you out?"  
  


"If any of you even so much as think about showing up at my doorstep, I will socially distance your head from your body and feed it to the pigeons."  
  


"Don't you threaten me with a good time," Richie purred, because he hadn't said anything in a while and Bev was starting to look at him a little suspiciously, right at the same time Stan shook his head and said "Please don't do that to the pigeons."  
  


After pacifying everyone's fears with snippy (yet tender) reassurances ("I can work from home, I have my groceries delivered, I own a perfectly adequate treadmill, and have more than enough hobbies to keep me busy. I am _fine_ , you _assholes_."), the other Losers began to trickle away, Mike leading the charge with a promise to be there, same time, same place, next week.   
  


Richie closed out of the call and rubbed his temples, letting out the groan of frustration he had been holding in.   
  


Maybe it was time to come to terms that it was just not meant to be.   
  


O  
  


He had it all planned out.   
  


Eddie had agreed to extend his trip an extra two days longer than the rest of the Losers, admitting, haughtily, that the only time he had taken off in the last seventeen or so years that he had been working at his company had been the periodic afternoons where he was was meeting up with his lawyer to discuss his divorce.   
  


"I deserve a few days off to relax," he had huffed, like Richie was the one he was trying to convince.   
  


For his part, Richie just smiled a little in amusement. "Fuck yeah you do, Spaghetti," he agreed.   
  


"Shut the fuck up, asshole, I work hard."  
  


"I'm agreeing with you, you nutcase," Richie laughed, shaking his head.   
  


Eddie continued to pout, Richie could hear it over the phone, but also continued typing away on what was either a travel website, a spreadsheet, or a fucking PowerPoint or something, Richie wasn't really paying attention to what Eddie was saying while he was detailing and fine-tuning his extra two days of their visit. "I want to see the ocean," he mused.  
  


"We do have one of those here," Richie agreed with a nod.   
  


"I'm looking at this article," Eddie continued, ignoring him. " _'The Ten Must See Beaches for Your Next Trip to LA'_. I'll forward it to you."   
  


Richie scoffed as his email immediately pinged with a new message. "Eds— Did you just fucking email me? Oh my god, just text like a normal person. Eds, I'm sure each and every one of those is shit. Just let me handle this, okay? I'll find you a good beach."  
  


Eddie snorted. "Oh yeah? I'm supposed to trust you? You? Over..." he paused. " _California beaches dot com_?"   
  


"Yes!" he laughed. God, he loved this stupid man so fucking much. "Yes Eddie, I am asking you to trust someone that has lived over half of their life in LA over California beaches dot, fucking, com."  
  


"Fine, Rich. I will, against my better judgement, trust you. But only so I can be an asshole if you pick something shitty."  
  


Richie smiled wistfully. "I expect nothing less."  
  


And so, Richie had done an embarrassing amount of research, not only for Eddie's little beach request, but any and all other things he had thrown out to him randomly in the following weeks as well. Restaurants, bars, shows, a place they could go axe throwing. As if Eddie's enjoyment of LA was a direct link to his enjoyment of Richie himself. It was stupid, but he wanted him to be impressed.   
  


Maybe if Eddie was impressed, he would be nicer about the other thing Richie had planned. The confession thing.   
  


He imagined it going down out at whatever beach he ended up taking him. Maybe at sunset, so they could watch the sun sink below the horizon. Eddie looked good in low-light. Richie would wear his nice jacket; the one Bev told him flattered his shoulders, and maybe Eddie would wear shorts. He would take Eddie's hand, maybe run his thumb over his skin, and look into those huge, brown eyes of his, and finally, three decades late, admit his feelings.   
  


He didn't have it written out word for word or anything, but he would be lying if he didn't say he at least had a running, mental bullet-pointed list of reasons he loved Eddie that was updated on, not a _daily_ basis, but definitely each time they spoke.   
  


Most of it was stupid.  
  


( _He never lets me get away with shit. He owns a pair of those stupid running shoes that look like feet. He emails articles instead of texting them._ )  
  


Some of it was, believe it or not, pretty romantic.  
  


( _He's the bravest person I've ever met. He cares about everything passionately and with more intensity than the sun. He only recently came back into my life and I already can't imagine a life without him._ )  
  


_All_ of it was embarrassing.   
  


( _Sometimes he looks so handsome just doing boring, mediocre things I want to cry. IMy heart skips a beat every time he calls or texts me. When we were thirteen, I carved our initials into the Kissing Bridge because I was that head over heels in love with him and somehow it's only gotten_ worse. _I can't even look at a hammock anymore without popping a boner, and it's all his fault, that bitch._ )  
  


But Eddie deserved to know all of it. Deserved to know that someone out there thought he was the greatest fucking thing since sliced bread. Because Eddie deserved to feel loved and wanted and beautiful. And even if he didn't feel the same way (and let's be honest, there was no fucking way he felt the same way), he deserved to know he was loved so intensely, he could destroy someone's world with a tear, and fill someone's life with meaning with a smile.   
  


And who knows, maybe a rejection was what Richie needed to help him move the fuck on. Nothing else seemed to do the trick; not even demon space clown amnesia bullshit, so it was worth a shot.  
  


Well, _would be_ worth a shot. There would be no oceanside sunset confessions coming any time soon, so for now, the pining continued.   
  


O

**Eds:  
**What are you doing Friday at 6?

Richie blinked down at his phone for a moment before pulling open his, (fucking _blank,_ obviously, no one was doing shit anymore), calendar.

**Richie:  
**This Friday? 6 am or pm? Your time or my time? Fucking be specific man. 

**Eds** :  
Oh my god. Why would I ask you what you're doing at 6AM?

**Richie:  
**I dont fucking know! Youre the one being all cryptic dude!

**Eds:  
**Holy shit.  
6:00 PM Pacific Time, this goddamn Friday, April 24th, 2020.  
You dick.  
Fuck you. 

**Richie:  
**See was that too hard?

**Eds:**  
Yes.  
Are you free or not, dipshit?

**Richie:  
**Yeah i'm free.  
Of course i'm free, wtf else would I be doing?

_Ping_

__

**_[Gmail Inbox]_ **

**_1 New Message from e.f.kaspbrak@insuricare.org  
_** _**Subject:** Private Virtual Meeting Link_

_You are invited to a private virtual meeting by_ _Edward Kaspbrak_ _. Friday, April 24th @ 6:00PM PDT_

https://zoom.us/it/172111811420914569 _  
_

_Please RSVP:_

_|Yes| |Maybe| |No|_

"Dude, just fucking text," he groaned, falling just a little bit more in love. 

**Richie:  
**[thinking face emoji] 

**Eds:**  
Did you RSVP?

**Richie:  
**What the fuck am I rsvping to?

**Eds:**  
Did you read the email?

**Richie:  
**Yeah  
It doesnt tell me shit dude  
Wtf

**Eds:  
**[eye-roll emoji] Just fucking be there.  
On time.  
And RSVP!!!

Richie closed out of his texts and reopened the email with a small smile. He clicked 'Yes'. 

O

On Friday, Richie's phone _ping_ ed at ten to six, his calendar reminding him of his quickly approaching appointment. 

**  
Private Virtual Meeting w/ Edward Kaspbrak @ 6:00PM**

  
He dismissed the reminder and took a deep breath, making sure he used the bathroom and brushed a hand through his hair once more before staring at the picture of the Losers on his desktop background for exactly seven more minutes, refusing to join the meeting early.

  
At six o'clock, Eddie let him into the meeting room almost embarrassingly quickly.   
  


"You're on time," he said quietly, as soon as the call connected.   
  


The slightly elevated placement of his camera ( _"Looking down all day is so fucking bad for your back and neck,"_ he lectured to him once. _"You should look into getting a standing desk. The health benefits are fucking insane. I'll forward you an article."_ ), made his eyes look even bigger than usual, and maybe it was just a trick of the light, but Richie could swear his cheeks looked almost a little flushed.  
  


He gulped, opening his mouth to ask just what the fuck he was on time _for_ , when he froze, his eyes taking in Eddie's attire. "Dude, are you wearing a fucking _Hawaiian shirt_? And are those _sunglasses_? Isn't it like, nine o'clock there? Why do you need sunglasses?"  
  


Eddie's cheeks pinked spectacularly, and Richie vaguely wondered how much shit he had to give him to cover up the fact that he was painfully, pathetically endeared by everything about him. "These are my vacation clothes," he grumbled.  
  


"Oh my _god_ , Eds," he cooed. "Okay, what's going on? My birthday was last month, not that I don't appreciate what is obviously the greatest gift you could ever give me, but what are we doing here?"  
  


"Okay," Eddie started, taking a deep breath. "Okay. I guess we're just... I am just going to... Richie." He paused, and it was hard to tell, but Richie was pretty sure he was studying him through the screen. "I, um. I had...Plans. For LA. For us in LA."  
  


Richie nodded, not sure where this was going. "Yeah dude, so did I. I like, looked up beaches and like, axe throwing places and shit."  
  


Eddie's mouth hung open. "No, I mean— wait, axe...? You were gonna take me axe throwing?"  
  


"Yeah dude." He shrugged. "You mentioned it back at Christmas, when we were talking about me killing Bowers?" He made a little motion like he was flicking an axe at something, complete with a little _shing!_ sound effect. "The mental image of you going full feral and throwing axes at shit was way too amazing to pass up. Oh, and I found this rad place that had a target that looked like a clown and shit, and I thought it would be funny to- hey wait, h-hey... _Eds_ , what's wrong?"  
  


Eddie stared at him through the screen looking positively _wrecked_ , his mouth still hanging open slightly as his eyes got big all and watery, almost sending Richie into a panic. "Rich..." Eddie groaned. "I can't believe you..." He cut himself off, shaking his head suddenly and clearing his throat. "Okay. Okay, I can... I can do this. I'm going to do this right." He stood up straight, glaring intently into the camera, directly at Richie. "I'm ready."  
  


"Eds, what are you—?"  
  


"Oh wait," he snapped, leaning forward and messing around with something on the screen.   
  


When he popped back up, the background behind him was suddenly a somewhat glitchy looking beach, bathed in the light of a warm, setting sun, gently lapping waves and all.  
  


"I really had my heart set on doing this in California," Eddie explained shyly. Richie felt his heart melt.   
  


"Eds, I don't think that's California," he quipped quietly, biting his lip to hide the fact that now his traitorous eyes were beginning to water, too. "I think that's Hawaii."  
  


Eddie rolled his eyes. "Does California have an ocean and palm trees? Yeah? Then it's fucking close enough. Now shut up for once in your life and let me do this."  
  


Richie snorted, miming zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key. Eddie rolled his eyes, though it was notably affectionate.  
  


"Okay, so here's the thing," he began, taking the dorky sunglasses off of his head and fiddling with them in his hands, giving them something to do. "I don't have the best track record when it comes to... affection," he sighed. "Besides the Losers, I don't think I've ever been, you know... _loved_. Like, appropriately. I have zero experience. Ma messed me up big time, and thanks to the space clown bullshit, I ended up falling into the same toxic patterns with Myra. And I never really had a chance to, you know, really explore _me_ , and who _I_ am and what _I_ want. Until now."  
  


He had been staring pretty intensely at his sunglasses through all this, and Richie found himself inhaling sharply when Eddie finally turned his eyes up to look at him again. He looked determined. Like, flinging rocks at bullies, launching his fanny pack, chucking a fence post into a clown _determined_.   
  


(And distantly, Richie made a note to tease Eddie about his tendencies to throw shit around when he was pissed off, but right now he had far bigger, more interesting things to focus his time and attention on, thank you very much, so he filed that train of thought away until much, much later.)  
  


"Richie," Eddie continued, meeting his eyes as best as he could through the screen. "It's taken almost four years, and like, an embarrassing amount of therapy, but I'm ready to like, _live my truth_ , or whatever that crunchy-ass saying is. And I promised myself I would do this in California, and maybe I should have taken all this as a sign to not still go through with it, but whatever. Fuck it."  
  


He smiled that little smile of his. His _real_ smile, the smile reserved only for Richie and the other Losers, and Richie pointedly chose not to think too much about why he was making it, lest he explode, or cry, or something else equally embarrassing that would ultimately throw Eddie off his groove, and Richie would rather die than let that happen. He needed Eddie to say whatever it was he was trying to say. _Needed_ it.   
  


Eddie always was the brave one between the two of them, and Richie had never been more eternally grateful for that fact.   
  


"Rich... Okay, no, I'm sorry, could you like, make your background a beach too, or something? This is so... This seemed like a good idea at the time, but I just feel like a huge asshole right now."  
  


Richie laughed. It was obviously, unabashedly watery. "No can do, Eduardo. I don't have a nice enough laptop for that. Don't you think that if I could have made myself into a potato for this entire conversation, I would have?"  
  


"Of course, you fucking child. God, I'm turning this stupid background off, this is stupid."  
  


"No, no, don't!" Richie laughed again, picking up his laptop and spinning his chair, so he was backed by his large, picture windows. "There, an authentic Los Angeles background, no editing or fancy laptop needed."  
  


Eddie pouted. It was adorable. "Now I can't even see you, jackass. Oh, wait, yeah, tilt it a little like... Oh." He blinked as Richie's video came back into clarity. "That's a horrible view. What the hell? I thought you were rich."  
  


"Focus, Kaspbrak."  
  


"Right, fuck, sorry. Shut up and let me do this." He took another deep breath, shaking his head, and refocusing his attention back to his screen, where Richie's image was undoubtedly smiling fondly. "I like you. There, I said it. I like you, and I think I have for a while. I'm gay, I like men, and, _lord help me_ , for some stupid, fucked up reason, I seem to like you the most. So— Just, fucking, do with that what you will. I'm yours if you'll take me." He gestured lamely, looking worn out and tired and just a little relieved, all at the same time, before adding nervously, "It would be really fucking cool if you could say something now, man."  
  


Richie, for what it was worth, managed to succeed in not bursting into tears right then and there, and for that, he made a mental note to reward himself later, when his dreams weren't actively coming true in front of his eyes. "You'd have to be a goddamn idiot if you don't think I've been yours since the moment we met, Eds."   
  


Eddie flushed, looking away and biting his lip. "Well it's not like you ever said anything," he grumbled, glancing up again shyly and whispering, "You mean it?"  
  


"Yeah, Eddie," he croaked, starting to feel the water in his eyes slip down his cheeks. "I mean it." He sniffed, giggling to himself as Eddie started to look a little teary-eyed himself. "God, I want to kiss you so bad. This is why I didn't want to do this when we couldn't be together, you asshole!"  
  


"Oh, like you would have been able to do it in person, you fucking coward." Eddie grinned.  
  


Richie grinned back. "I had _Plans_ , you know. If you had just been patient and let me woo properly."  
  


" _Woo_ ," Eddie spat, laughing so his eyes crinkled, his dimples on full display. Richie thought it was the best thing he had ever seen. "Like you could _woo_."  
  


"I could woo!"  
  


"You couldn't woo if you tried."  
  


"Wooed your mom, didn't I?"  
  


They beamed at each other, basking in the feeling of finally being able to do that now, as Eddie finally turned off his dorky video background so they could settle down and talk like actual, functioning adults. It was something Richie normally hated, but found that with Eddie there, he didn't mind it quite as much.   
  


He knew this wasn't going to be easy. Nothing with the two of them ever was. But it would be great, too. He would be sure of that. This relationship, _Eddie,_ was worth everything, even if he had to put up with not kissing him for god knows how long. It was going to be worth it.   
  


And besides, they waited this long, what was a little longer?

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the 8:30AM staff meetings I have to go to every morning, particularly the one where my coworkers messed around changing backgrounds on Zoom for half the time when I could have been sleeping. THIS ONE IS FOR YOU GUYS! EVERY ONE OF THOSE CHECK-INS COULD ABSOLUTELY BE AN EMAIL!
> 
> Anyway, I tried to keep this as non-specific as possible, as far as an omg they were quarantined fic goes. Tried not to harp on the quarantined part so much, and put more focus on them not being able to confess in person, like they would have wanted. 
> 
> (Title is absolutely from Nsync's 2000's classic 'Digital Get Down', in case you were wondering.)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed and are staying happy, healthy and safe! Kudos or comments always appreciated! <3


End file.
